


An It Harm None, Do As You Will

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-11
Updated: 2003-12-11
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A story from the perspective of Jennifer Taylor. She thinks about her son.





	An It Harm None, Do As You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Most of the time I think that I’m not really in people’s thoughts. I’m sat here on the sidelines, very rarely joining in with the game. Even so, I still see as much as anybody else.

 

I can see that my son’s very unsuitable boyfriend actually loves him very much, in his own way. I can see that my son’s very unsuitable boyfriend’s best friend dislikes this very much, for reasons of his own misplaced affections. I can see that the two women will grow very old together, never leaving each other’s side. Regretfully, I can see that the oldest member of the group will, in all likelihood, soon succumb to the decimating disease that infects his body. 

 

I look around at this peculiar group of people, and wonder how on Earth my beautiful, innocent son ever became a part of it. Was it my fault? Did I push him away? I should think Craig, his father never helped, but still, _did I raise him wrong?_

 

I feel ashamed when I think like this, because pen ultimately, these doubts all stem from his sexuality. Sometimes I’ll say to myself, ‘what’s your problem, woman? So your son likes guys, big deal, so do you!’ but then I’ll think, ‘it’s not normal.’ And then to combat this again, I’ll think, ‘define normal.’ And then I’m stumped. Ordinarily when this demand had been thrown at me I’d have replied, ‘normal is the way the majority behaves.’ And this was my life until I went to the gay pride parade with Justin.

 

“I didn’t think there were so many,” I shouted to him over the roars and whistles of the amazingly vibrating crowd.

 

“Queers?” he says, squinting to the side with a little disappointment in his voice.

 

“People!” I shout back reprovingly, when I was indeed, thinking ‘queers, homosexuals, gays, everywhere.” It was then that I realised that they were not a minority.

 

It’s hard for me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against people’s preferences, provided they don’t wave them in my face or try to make them mine. It’s just what every mother dreads, isn’t it? The thoughts that flash through my head are ‘Aids. Social stigma. Aids. Half the amount of grandchildren. Aids. Transvestites. Aids.’ When I reflect on how Craig reacted to his son’s leap out of the closet, a part of me realises that perhaps it was harder for him to accept. ‘His only son,’ I think. ‘The family name, gone. His own son, a fairy, a fudge packer, a faggot.’ All of those dirty connotations that come with those filthy words, attached to his family. 

 

But I’ve come to terms with it now. I mean, I never had a problem with homosexuals before; I’m not prejudice or bigoted. I just never had to deal with it before. Like I said, as long as it’s not waved in my face…

 

Which it is, most of the time. When I visited the places he likes to go, everywhere I looked, all around me, were people from, to me, what seemed like another World. After all, my parents were always fiercely conservative and the first time I even fully understood what a gay person was, was when I got to college. That sounds hopelessly pathetic, I know, but looking back, my life was extremely sheltered. And of course, back when I was a child, it wasn’t acceptable at all to be gay. I remember Emmett Honeycutt (who’s about 12 years younger than me) once told me that back before he came to Pittsburgh, the post man used to spit at him in the street. So multiply that by a couple of tens, and you’ve got the society I grew up in. See my problem now?

 

But anyway, where was I? oh, yes. It being waved in my face. On ‘Liberty Avenue’, like Justin said to me once, the queers don’t hide their sexuality; they flaunt it. And even when I’m just walking down the street with my son, I’ll see him openly check out another man – usually the same man I would check out! I figure he must have a thing for older guys, which incidentally, brings me to the point of _Brian Kinney_. He is the thorn in my finger; the Bain of my life; _the pain in my ass_. He took my son, and turned him into an adult – a gay adult - overnight. He’s twelve years too mature for him, and from what I’ve heard, much too promiscuous. What if he catches something – like aids – and gives it to Justin? Oh God, aids. He’s 30 years old! I could handle it if he was maybe 22. But a man his age…it’s not right for him to be touching my son. Granted, my son is now 18, but the age gap…it’s like a chasm. And although it’s terrible to say, I still hold him fully responsible for Justin’s attack back at the prom. Maybe that’s irrational; maybe it’s unfair. But if it wasn’t for him…maybe Justin wouldn’t be gay. I know, I know, that’s a stupid thing to say. But I can’t help thinking it. A mother’s mind is a fascinating thing; we remember what we want and forget what we don’t. And if Brian hadn’t been there, Justin would’ve gone to the prom, had a good time, and come home conscious. If Brian hadn’t gone there to dance, Chris Hobbs would never have burned with the resentment that he must have felt that night. Justin told me what had happened with Hobbs – of course his cheeks turned crimson when he did and his eyes fell to the floor, but he told me why he was getting so much grief at school. Do I think it was wrong of Justin to touch a school friend like that? No. I’m not being funny here, but Hobbs is a football player. If he had objected that strongly to Justin’s advances, Justin would probably have come home with a broken wrist. But at least he would have come home. 

 

I mean, I could see that Brian was cut up about Justin’s attack. The look on his face when I arrived at the hospital…the silent tears, the defeated slump of his usually proud shoulders. And then of course, he visited Justin every night, at the same time, without fail. I was a little taken aback when the duty nurse told me, but then I suppose I wasn’t all that surprised. Brian is extremely…enigmatic. The second you think you have him figured out, he changes direction at such speed that you think something’s bound to crash. I do respect him in a way I suppose. He never lied to my son; didn’t manipulate him into bed. Looking at him, I figure he doesn’t have to. I mean the dark, reddish hair, the tall, lean frame, the deep, dark eyes, and the legs that go on forever and ever. He is undoubtedly one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen, which also makes me proud because now, he (almost) belongs to my son. That must say something about Justin, mustn’t it? And plus, he’s loaded. That’s very shallow I know, but seriously, have you seen his place? It’s incredible, and he obviously has good taste. Which again, is a rather positive reflection on Justin, don’t you think? 

 

I’m never going to change him. He will always be gay; sometimes I think he was born that way. And as they all say, why worry about something you can’t do anything about? What I’ve realised since I found those errant underpants in Justin’s drawer is that I will instinctively stand by my son whatever turn his path takes. Sadly Craig didn’t feel that way; what he wouldn’t accept he didn’t want. But me, I’m different. Although sometimes I worry about the place his lifestyle will lead him to, there’s nothing I can do to block the way, because the more I try to control him, the more he’ll rebel. And at the end of the day, is it really so awful? The way I see it is, as long as he’s happy, it’ll always, be good enough for me.


End file.
